


Winning the Breakup

by taliahale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Stanford University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taliahale/pseuds/taliahale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You want me to be your fake girlfriend while you win the breakup with your asshole high school boyfriend?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winning the Breakup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ureshiiichigo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ureshiiichigo/gifts).



> Written for the [2014 Femslash Exchange](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/femslashex_2014).

“You have five seconds to answer this question.”

Allison jumps, fingers mashing the keys of her laptop. Three programs pop open as Allison looks up at one of the most gorgeous people she’s ever seen in real life. Long waves of strawberry blonde hair perfectly compliment the girl’s creamy skin and wide, long-lashed eyes.

“O-okay.” Allison shuts the lid of her laptop.

“Are you a homophobe?” Red asks, her hazel eyes narrowing.

“Not that self-loathing,” Allison quips, pleased by the answering Cheshire grin.

Red sticks out her right hand. “Lydia Martin.” Allison’s briefly distracted by the short, polish-free nails and the intriguing array of callouses on Lydia’s small palms.

“Allison Argent,” she replies. Allison releases Lydia’s hand a beat too late and tries to ignore the telltale heat of her cheeks.

Lydia raises one perfectly arched brow and gives Allison a more thorough once over. It does nothing to stave off Allison’s blush. “You’ll do nicely. Look behind me.” She continues to face Allison. “See the blonde asshole in the maroon sweater that just walked in?”

Allison looks over Lydia’s shoulder to the counter of the coffee shop. A harried barista is trying to get the next person in line to move up and order. Allison’s eyes scan the line until she sees her target.

“My two o’clock. Jaw that could cut glass. Douchey, over-gelled hair?”

“That would be Jackson. High school boyfriend.” Lydia wrinkles her adorable nose and makes this little frown that forms a small v between her brows. Allison may be halfway in love with her already.

“And you need a non-homophobic stranger because?” Allison slips her laptop into its neoprene sleeve and shoves it and her scribbled translations of _Mémoires de deux jeunes mariées_ into her leather messenger bag.

“My roommate Kira was going to join me for this awkward coffee not-date, but she was injured in her fencing match and had to stay an extra day in San Diego. She’s left me completely high and dry.” Lydia tucks a stray curl behind her left ear and sighs. “Jackson called and said he was coming into town and pulled the whole ‘let’s catch up, blah blah blah’ nonsense. It’s the terrible ‘good to see you, but not really, oh, and by the way I’ve so clearly moved on to bigger and better things’ meet-up. You know how dreadful those are.”

“I don’t know, but this all sounds very interesting.” Allison bites down on a laugh at Lydia’s exasperated expression. “No, really. Go on.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “All I told him was that I was seeing someone taller than me with dark hair who’s much better looking than him. He said I should bring them along.”

“You want me to be your fake girlfriend while you win the breakup with your asshole high school boyfriend?” Allison looks back at the line to the coffee counter. Jackson’s only two people back and is shooting puzzled looks at the back of Lydia’s head. “He’s looking at us pretty funny.”

“I didn’t mention my significant other was a woman.” Lydia shifts on the overstuffed loveseat, giving Allison a peak of pale, smooth skin beneath her floral skirt. “He’s probably wondering if there are two redheads in here.”

Allison watches Jackson scan the room with furrowed brows and decides Lydia's probably on point with the two redheads thing. “And the fake girlfriend thing?”

“That would be a ‘yes, please.’” Lydia sits stiffly and her mouth is pressed into a thin, tight line. “If you’re up to it.”

Allison studies Lydia’s face. She can’t shake the feeling that ‘please’ doesn’t pass Lydia Martin’s lips with any kind of frequency. “Yeah, okay. I’m up to it." Her breath catches a little at Lydia's brilliant smile. "But we only have, like, two minutes to concoct a meet-cute and background information.”

There’s a flurried exchange of details. They’re both Stanford students, like most of the coffee shop’s patrons. The school's not precisely _small_ , but Allison can't imagine someone as gorgeous as Lydia Martin not being the talk of their class. That's until Lydia explains she's already got her BS from Berkeley and is completing dual PhDs in Astrophysics and Mechanical Engineering ( _oh, yeah, I spent the summer interning at JPL after I did my undergraduate degrees in physics and mathematics and that whole year of misery_ ). Allison's barely even passed Lomita Mall, let alone been in any of the physics or engineering buildings. She's in her last semester of a BA in French. Some of the science students can be a bit dickish about the humanities crowd, but Lydia looks pleased when Allison starts waxing rhapsodic about diacritical marks.

When Jackson finally strolls over with his coffee in hand, Lydia and Allison are chatting in Meridional French, exchanging rapid-fire recollections of their travels in France. Allison is fond of the country estates of Poitou-Charentes, like her ancestral property in the marshlands of Marais Poitevin. Lydia admits to being a notorious museum hound and a devotee of the rose macarons from the Ladurée on the Champs-Élysées.

“Lydia, you going to introduce me to your friend?” Jackson asks, sitting next to Lydia on the loveseat. He settles closer than necessary, denim-clad leg flush against the rose patterned silk of Lydia’s skirt.

“Absolument.” Lydia stands and settles herself sideways in Allison’s lap. Allison wraps her arms around Lydia’s waist and smiles at Jackson’s poleaxed expression. “Jackson, this is my girlfriend Allison. Allison, Jackson.”

“So nice to put a face to all of Lydia’s hilarious high school stories,” Allison says. She makes use of the earnest, dimpled smile that always got her out of detention and into clubs she wasn’t old enough for. “She has almost entirely good things to say about you.”

“I—well.” Jackson takes a sip of his coffee, eyes roaming the room for the quickest escape route.  “That is to say—l”

“Oh, Jackson, would you like to join us for dinner?” Lydia asks. She leans back into the circle of Allison’s embrace and loosely wraps an arm around Allison’s shoulders. “We have a ‘Queers in Tech’ panel at the Fire Truck House tonight, but we were going to grab some tacos or something beforehand.”

“We’ve been meaning to try that new Japanese place, Lyds.” Allison pats Lydia on the knee with one hand, smile widening at Lydia’s smirk. She lets the hand rest there and valiantly doesn't laugh at the way Jackson's eyes track the gentle stroke of Allison's thumb.

“That’s right. I’ve heard their sashimi is divine.” Lydia nods. “Or did you have an early curfew because of the game?”

“Oh!” Jackson nods, looking like nothing so much as a bobblehead as he rises from the loveseat with a relieved smile. “Yeah. Yes, early curfew. Should really get back to the hotel. But it was great to see you, Lydia. And nice to, uh. It was nice to meet you, Allison.”

“Pleasure was all ours,” Lydia says. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

Jackson gives an odd half wave, half salute and dashes out of the shop like his ass is on fire.

“The lap sitting was a nice touch,” Allison comments, thumb still idly stroking the silky skin of Lydia's knee.

“I know I should’ve asked first.” Lydia turns to smile down at Allison. “But it felt rather natural, didn’t it?”

“Absolument.” Allison smiles in return. “So I’m thinking my reparations for fake girlfriend duty should totally be made in seafood.”

“I could go for some sushi.” Lydia bites the soft swell of her pink lower lip. “First, I’m going to try something.”

“Sure, wha—” Allison’s question is cut off by the warm, sweet press of lips. Lydia’s mouth tastes like chai and strawberry lipgloss and the curls spilling around them smell of vanilla and lavender.

“Definitely a good idea.” Lydia nods, pulling back just far enough to look Allison in the eye.

“Great idea.” Allison does a mental happy dance when Lydia’s eyes track the movement of Allison’s tongue over her lips. “You, uh, still hungry?”

Lydia cups Allison’s face in her hands, tracing flushed cheekbones with steady fingers.

“Starving.”


End file.
